Mr. and Mrs. Glassman next door hear the commotion, but it’s the same noises they hear every night so they turn out the light and ignore the little girl who needs help. Old Ms. Kathryne closes the window with a sigh and mutters something about those darn neighborhood kids making a racket.

The police officer who rides down this street as part of his beat doesn’t hear the noise over his engine and radio reporting the latest crimes: speeder on i-90, drug possession at the rec center. He’s oblivious to the real crime right on his own route.

But someone does hear. Six-year-old Patrick is in Liabelle’s class. He talked to her at recess today. He saw the bruises on her arms when her sleeves came up. He saw what her mother does to her every night. Tonight he watches out his window for her to get up, but she doesn’t. Frantically he reaches for the phone to dial 911.

His fingers frantically scramble for the right buttons, but he only gets to 9-1 before he mother snatches the phone away, telling him it’s not a game.